Beau leans toward the screen slightly. “Yeah. I am.”
Miles nods once. “Aight. Can I go?”
“Bye, baby,” I call.
“Bye, Mom. Later, bull guy.”
Gone. Lilah grins. Beau looks at me and I can see it in his face …his golden eyes soft, his jaw relaxed, his whole expression open in a way I rarely see outside of bed. He sees my kids. Sees the whole messy, beautiful package. And he wants all of it.
Lilah hugs Beau on her way upstairs. Quick, easy, like she’s already decided he belongs here. His gigantic body stiffens for half a second …surprised …then his arm comes around her. Careful. Gentle. Like he knows exactly how to hold something that matters.
I watch from the kitchen door, and my heart does something dangerous, permanent.
Then we’re alone. Kitchen warm. Dishes in the sink. And Beau’s leaning against my counter with his sleeves still rolled up, his golden eyes tracking me across the room. His body relaxed. Taking up space. Filling my kitchen with his scent, his warmth, and his quiet, steady certainty.
“Your kids are something else,” he says.
“They’re insane.”
“I like them.”
I walk to him. He opens his arms, and I step between his legs and press my face into his chest. His shirt is warm, his heartbeat steady under my cheek, his arms wrap around me …big, heavy, sure. One hand settling on the small of my back. The other in my hair, his rough fingers threading through my braids.
“Thank you,” I say into his chest.
His chin rests on my head. “For what?”
“Being real with them. Not performing.”
His hand tightens in my hair. His voice drops low. “I told your daughter I love you before I told you.”
I pull back. Look up at him. That square jaw. His full lips. The gold eyes looking down at me like I’m everything.
“So, tell me.”
He cups my face in both hands. His rough palms, warm on my cheeks. His thumbs stroking under my eyes. He leans down until his forehead rests against mine, and I can feel his breath on my lips.
“I love you, Ina.”
Low. Quiet. Certain. Like it’s been true for longer than he’s known me.
“I love you too.” My hands find his chest, sliding up to his neck. I feel his pulse jump under my palm. Fast. He’s not as calm as he looks. “Now take me to bed before my daughter hears something she can’t un-hear.”
His golden eyes flash dark. His hands slide from my face to my ass. He grips. Lifts. I wrap my legs around him and he carries me out of the kitchen, his mouth on my neck, my hand clamped over my mouth to keep from moaning on the stairs.
“Quiet,” he murmurs against my throat. His stubble scraping my skin. His lips dragging hot over my pulse.
“Then stop doing that.”
He does it harder. I bite my hand.
My bedroom door closes behind us, and he lays me down on my bed. Climbs over me. Cages me in with his massive arms. Looks down at me with his burning eyes.
“Watching you with your kids,” he says, his voice rough. His hand slides up my thigh, pushing my dress up. “Watching you be a mom. The way you love them.” His fingers hook my panties. Start pulling them down. “Makes me want to give you more.”
My breath catches. “More kids?”
He settles between my thighs. I feel the thick press of him through his jeans. His mouth brushes mine.
